Stalked by blood
by Ceinlys
Summary: Ceinlys, a sarcastic, sharp-tongued and fierce girl, is well known for the way she kills. Slitting throats, or a sword in the back. But, where did she learn these tricks? By herself? Hardly. Ceinlys has a secret past of her own...
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own World of Warcraft. All rights go to them. Certain characters are NPCs that belong to them. Or toons that belong to other players in the game. No copyright intended.**

Chapter 1

-Raid-

Dark, onyx shadows flickered across the large clearing. Hushed whispers and suppressed snickering would still be inaudible for the group's target. A small collection of houses, which resided almost directly off Elwynn's main road, bordered the crossing to Redridge Mountains. The sun was beginning lift itself up, over the horizon, but still, only small rays of sunshine were able to pierce the thickening branches of trees, that dominated the area. Wives had already stirred from their peaceful slumber, as they did each morning. Preparing a tasty breakfast that would give their husbands the energy required for the long day of work ahead. However, all the men were still in bed. The children ran around the village, giggling as they played their games. Among these few early risers, were two girls. Obviously related, one was much older than the other.

She possessed bright blonde hair, cut short so it framed her long face. Twinkling blue eyes made her look like an angel, the fact that she preferred to act as one made her seem almost vain. Prancing around the grass, twirling every so often, to nab the boys' attention. It always worked.

Her sister was different in every way; she stood about half the size as the blonde. This was normal, for a 2 year old. She held a relaxed posture, as she watched the others have fun. Her mother had strictly told her no playing with the big kids, till she was older. But, she didn't mind. Picking at the long grass, she grabbed handfuls and threw them high in the hair, smiling as certain blades struck her face. Brown hair and a simple face helped her blend in with the crowds. So she never received too much unwanted attention. The only thing truly remarkable about her was the color of her eyes. An easy brown encircling her pupil, with a striking emerald to match. Without a doubt, the colors independently separated on her iris were much more stunning then having them mixed completely together. Looking around, she quickly forgot about her game with the grass and continued to watch her sister from afar.

The bandits greedily huddled around the perimeter of the village, still concealed by the shadows. Peering over their masks, they watched the town hungrily. Each slowly pulled out their weapons. Daggers, broadswords and bows were by far the most popular. Though, a few held strange staffs, tipped with a red gem. A lone raider stepped forward, possibly the leader of the group. With a quick hand signal forward, the group approached. Not a single war cry was made, or a scream as the first throat was slit. Only silence, as they continued their stalking.

For the first few minutes, over half the town had been murdered and no one had even realized what was happening. The organized raid would have been a complete slaughter, if it weren't for the group of children, playing unnoticed in the background. A shrill scream came from one the boys, as he watched his mother's throat be slit, as she watching the pan on the stove intently. In response to the noise, a dagger came out of nowhere, and drove itself into the boy's fragile chest.

The thrower of the knife came out of hiding and kicked the boy down with her boot. Quirking a brow, she smiled wickedly as the group of children huddled together, crying and screaming for their parents.

"Don't worry. You'll be seeing your parents, right after I'm done." The woman in leathers growled. Unsheathing a broadsword, she began to approach the kids.

Quiet whimpers waved through the children, as she picked off another boy. This time slicing the dagger across his thigh. Hollering for assistance, he flailed his arms around, even turning back to his friends, his watery eyes pleading for aid. His efforts were in vain however, and the bandit quickly finished him off. Her sword now bloodied, she pointed it forward, aimed at the blonde girl. It seemed as if the raider were about to say something, but was cut off by war cry, coming from the center of the village.

A man, well built and toned, charged forward. He wore only a flimsy chain shirt, appearing as though he only gave himself a few seconds to prepare. Though his huge two-handed sword was by far more intimidating. Breathing heavily, having only just woken up, he continued to yell, though he already had the attention of every armed bandit in the vicinity. Waving his sword, he casted a worried glance at the children, hoping to draw the attention away from them. So they could escape.

Before the brave warrior, could even get into good swinging distance of the woman, three arrows, lodged themselves into his back. Groaning in pain, he continued forward, though now he carried a very severe limp. Bringing his sword up into the air, he swung down.

With the reflexes of a cat, the bandit rolled forward, easily dodging the clumsy blow. Pivoting to the right, the woman drove her sword into the man's stomach. Her momentum bringing the blade almost all the way through the flesh. Falling forward, the man gasped for breath, blood already flowing freely from the fatal wound. Glancing forward, he gave one last desperate look at the children. Especially, the two girls, who now screamed madly, having just seen their father beaten.

However, with the silence of an owl, a woman ran forward. A holy shield surrounding her body, she rushed passed the fallen man. A barrage of tears falling down her face. But, she continued forward and she bent down to pick up as many of the children as she could. Ushering the others forward, they started to make their way away from the village.

Luckily, the rest of the villagers realized what was happening and quickly armed themselves with whatever they could find. Pitchforks, kitchen knifes, even broomsticks. They fought valiantly, for their lives. For a moment, things seemed to be leaning in their favour. The raiders seemed shocked at the defiance the citizens held, knowing their fighting would be aggressive. But, the sentiment never lasted longer than those mere moments. The bandits had bows. Countless volleys rained down from the sky, a black cloud of death speeding down on the villagers.

There was no more resistance. Soon, the town had been mutilated, their supplies taken, and the bodies left to rot in the sun. The leader of the group, ordered his men to make a pile in the center of the town. Spitting out orders in a hurried frenzy. It wouldn't be long before the Stormwind patrols arrived.

Once the last corpse had been placed on the rotting pile, he pulled out a red cloth from his pouch. Throwing it on the top of the pile, he turned away. Without glancing back, he shifted once more into the shadows, closely followed by his followers. Not a single death or even slight injury weighing them down.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

-Taken-

The woman's breath came in rapid bursts as they reached the end of the clearing. Looking back, she groaned to see they were being pursued. Three of the bandits, had seen the woman lead the children away from the fighting and they hadn't hesitated to follow. All three carried swords, so at least they wouldn't have to worry about ranged fire. But, either way, the woman knew she could never out run them. Glancing down, she saw the children, stains from their tears, dry from having the wind in their face as they ran. Taking a deep breath, the woman turned around. The children suddenly shrieking as she did so, not wanting to get caught by the bandits. Smiling gently, she looked over her shoulder at the worried kids, her voice cracked from fear, but managing to retain a calm tone.

"I'll be fine. Run to Goldshire, you'll be save there."

Gritting her teeth, the woman turned back to the raiders, who were now only 20 meters away. Closing her eyes, she held her hands out far in front of her, shaking at the effort of the magic she was summoning. A warm glow spread through her body, and she trembled as it passed, opening her eyes, she whispered a spell.

"Smite!" The word reached the ears of the eager assassins, and they couldn't help but laugh at her pathetic attempt.

Most of the children, now terrified, ran hard and fast. Heading in the direction they were before. Except the two girls, they had to stay. Because the man, who they witnessed, defeated and killed was their father. And this woman, who had risked her safety to help the kids, was also their mother. The blonde, who was old enough to understand the danger, tried to push her sister away, begging and pleading for her to run. But, her efforts were useless. The toddler was too entranced in the fighting, to notice anything else.

Disorientated and stunned, the woman held her hands in front of her face, a desperate attempt to protect herself.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

Turning to the two remaining children, the bandits smiled wickedly through their masks. Snickering evilly as they pondered how they would kill them. Although, without warning, the brunette trudged bravely forward, her hands on her hips, and chin raised high in the air. She walked past her mother's body, a small glint catching her eye. Reaching down, she pulled a long dagger from her mother's sleeve. The question of why her mother never thought of using it passed through her. But, she was much too young to fully comprehend the logic. Shutting her eyes tight, she held the dagger outward, both hands on the handle.

The blonde shrieked as she watched her sister threaten the bad men. She started to walk forward, hoping to pull her sister back, but stopped herself. Deciding to use words instead.

"Ceinlys. Ceinlys il n'est pas sûr, là-bas, peut-être vous devriez revenir ici. S'il vous plaît! I don't want you to get hurt!" Her voice held a very strong accent, which was more prominent in the language she spoke. The bandits only seemed to comprehend the last few words. Which were in the common tongue, spoken over most of Azeroth.

Her sister understood. But, she didn't care. The only thought racing through her mind, was revenge. These mean people, killed her friends, her family, and might even kill her sister. If they thought they could just run all over her, they were wrong.

Howling in laughter at the frail girl's attempt, the leading bandit of the three quickly knocked the dagger from Ceinlys's hands. Balling his fingers into a tight fist, he punched the girl in the jaw. Dislocating it, and knocking Ceinlys out cold. She crumbled to the ground, only a few feet away from where her mother lay.

A curious idea came to the bandit, and he picked up the small girl, throwing her across his right shoulder. Without saying anything to his comrades, he began to make his way back towards the main group. Who had already started to move out.

Shrugging at the bold move, the other two took a quick glance at the blonde. Whose jaw was hanging down, as she watched her only sister be carried away by the man who killed her mother. The only thought that raced through _her_ mind, was to run. Turning around, she bolted for the forest's edge. Her feet moving fast on the ground's soft grass. Looking over her shoulder as she ran, she was relieved to see that the two others had decided to leave her be. Choosing a pace, she continued to run, she knew these forests well, and had been to Goldshire many times before. The wooden buildings soon came into view. And she allowed herself a brief respite. Though her mind still raced, still trying to register the previous events, that gone by in a blur of blood and death.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

1 Death, 1 Horse, 1 Road

Ceinlys couldn't register the mangled body before her. The former towering figure of the Brotherhood, weak and disgraced. His presence alone used to inspire and terrify the immense number of recruits he controlled, though now, it only brought despair and vulnerability. The corpse itself was lain sprawled over the main deck, a large pool of blood, which had dried up over the hours, surrounded the area. Adding only to the creeping stench that had begun to manifest through the entire cave. His armour was utterly stripped to practically nothing. The man's head had been chopped off, in one brutal swipe, probably as a trophy for the group who had battled their way through the mine. Ceinlys could look no longer, the sight was just too beautiful.

So far, her entire life had been training for this oaf, learning the ways of the cutthroat Defias. After being just promoted to the rank of shadowguard, she had been assigned a rather sleepy position on the outskirts of Moonbrook. Though she was still thankful for the escape from the dark, damp Deadmines. Ceinlys had even taken her scouting further out then granted. She had grown much in spirit, as she had in body. Fourteen long years had passed, since that fateful day had separated Ceinlys from her sister. But, Ceinlys had been so young, that she had almost absolutely no memory of what had happened. Now at the exciting age of Eighteen, Ceinlys's world had exploded with opportunities. She had finally perfected the practice of swordsmanship and already learned how to meld with the shadows. As much as she hated to admit it, Ceinlys was a rogue, though and through. No magic abilities, or amazing strength, just a lying, cheating, deceiving bandit. Must rogues or assassins preffered to use daggers or other cunning weapons, easier to hide. But Ceinlys had always favoured swords, enjoying the reach of the blade.

She patrolled the large barren plains of Westfall, usually in the pale light of the moon. Once in awhile daring herself to go into Sentinel Hill, the only realm Alliance village in the area. She'd only ever steal few rations, or any other miscellaneous supplies. Nothing that would possibly be noticed. Every chance she got, Ceinlys took. Even learning every inch of Westfall, planning and organizing. Waiting for the first opportunity to arise. It just so happened, that the death of Edwin VanCleef, leader of the Defias Brotherhood, her own boss, was exactly what she was hoping for.

It took about ten minutes to walk out the front door. Easy as it seems, Ceinlys knew that the only reason she wasn't dead, was because most of the other members, were leaving as well. The stables directly outside the entrance of the Deadmines, located in Moonbrook, was bustling with activity. Hundreds of desperate men and women, trying to bargain with the horse tendor. Common please of "Please, I only wish to return to my family and a horse will only aid me in that endeavor!" or even " I know important people who would pay you handsomely if you lend me your finest mare!". Ceinlys could only roll her eyes in frustration at the sight. Shoving her way straight thought the crowd, her hands flicked threateningly o her blades, each time a defensive man or woman would galre angrily at her. Luckily, the resistance wasn't much and it didn't take long before she reached the surprisingly steady vendor.

The man was clearly well into his 80s. His face decorated with heavy wrinkles and partly covered by a long and full white beard. Dressed in a loose fitting pair of overalls, he looked dead tired. Large bags hung under his eyes and he seemed to grow ten times older as he saw Ceinlys approaching.

His voice cracked with age as he addressed her, "I'm sorry m'am. But all my horses are top quality and I haven't seen the flashing of even a single copper coin among you lot!" As he opened his mouth, Ceinlys couldn't help but stare right past the elderly man. Regarding the true 'quality' of these horses.

They were all it seemed, raises like pieces of scrap. With almost no meat clinging on to their clearly visible frame, and the horseshoes looked as if they had been hastily clamped on with little to no care. She counted 6 in total, each the common brown color. Ceinlys only smiled wickedly and clenched her hands into fists, "Really? That's a shame, after all, I did happen to have a few gold pieces resting in my purse. I was even planning on spending them today. Oh well, maybe there's a horse vendor in Sentinel Hill I can bargain with."

The old man gasped, immediately regretting speaking so abruptly. He instantly took a few hurried steps closer to the woman, a new found spring in his step. "DEAL DEAL DEAL! I don't even care how much, wait, no, of course I do. How much are you offering?"

Ceinlys smiled in feigned happiness, though it never reached her eyes. She brought her commanding foot forward, using the slight momentum to deliver the first punch. Her first attack was a sharp uppercut, straight to the man's jaw. Almost certainly dislocating it. The second one followed almost immediately after, aimed at his soft temple. Sending his frail figure sailing into one of the stalls.

Shrugging, Ceinlys cracked her knuckles, before walking up to the small group of horses.

The crows behind her had fallen silent. Not sure, of exactly how to react. They stared in seething jealousy as Ceinlys examined each horse, knowing that after she claimed hers, there would only be five left. The added fact that there was no vendor, made the horses free of charge. In a few muttered yells and swears, the crowd broke free of its calm state. A huge brawl erupted, with the only reason being, that every single one of them, wanted one of the horses.

But Ceinlys's attention was nowhere near the fighting behind her. It was now completely focused on these five horses. She noted that as approached, each horse scuttled away, afraid of another beating. Sighing, she held out her hands, letting them know that she meant no harm to any of them. Just by her naked eye, she had already picked which horse she wanted. It didn't look like the strongest of the bunch, but it was by far the lightest. The steed looked up at Ceinlys tentatively, though his eyes reflected a strange curiosity, telling Ceinlys that this horse was still young and full of youthful energy. Nodding her head in respect at the horse, even caring to wonder why she did so. After all, it was still just a horse. But, it seemed to work. The horse trotted forward briskly, lowering its neck in welcome. She laughed silently at her own good fortune and grasped the steed's mane. Feeling the coarse hair between her fingers, she swung her body in one swift and precise motion, landing lightly on the horse's back.

Neighing softly, the horse adjusted itself, content that it's rider didn't weigh much. Shaking its head and batting its hooves on the rough dirt, it prepared for a long run. Ceinlys brought her heels down quickly on the horse's waist, which wasn't even much to begin with. Though she was still worried it wouldn't make the trip, it had to at least be able to follow her commands.

But without even giving Ceinlys a moment to truly doubt it's capability. The beast took off, leaving only a cloud of dust and a small trail of tracks behind.


End file.
